


there I shall go singing

by superhoney



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Canon Compliant Through 9x06, Christmas, Gen, Homelessness, Hopeful Ending, Human Castiel, SPN Holiday Mixtape, Sales Associate Steve, Season/Series 09, The Holiday Spirit
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-13
Updated: 2016-12-13
Packaged: 2018-09-08 09:35:04
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,675
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8839522
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/superhoney/pseuds/superhoney
Summary: "He doesn’t have much anymore. But he has more than some others, and he’s grateful to be among them tonight. Grateful to be able to share this special time of year with them."Castiel spends Christmas in Rexford, human and alone-- until he isn't.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Through a strange twist of fate I ended up writing two stories for the SPN Holiday Mixtape challenge. It's been such a delight to work with Jess and Liv and Anna on this. 
> 
> I'm not sure of the timeline for S9, but pretend that Castiel is still human and living in Rexford at Christmas that year. 
> 
> Inspired by and title from _Hands (Christmas Version)_ by Jewel. 
> 
> Beta-read by Anna, as usual. Thanks, friend.

He doesn’t have very much anymore. When Dean kicked him out of the bunker, he lost both family and home. And before that, when he fell, he lost his sense of purpose, to some degree his very sense of self.

But he has enough: a job, a boss whose sympathy Castiel isn’t sure he deserves, somewhere to sleep, undignified as it may be to curl up on the hard floor of the storage room of the Gas-n-Sip every night. 

He hasn’t been human for very long, but Castiel is already learning how important it is to keep track of the little things. When the big things in life bring only disappointment and heartbreak, it’s the little things that keep us going. Yes, _us_. He counts himself among the humans now, even if he still feels somewhat set apart from them. 

Unlike many other stores, the Gas-n-Sip doesn’t see much of a spike in traffic around the holidays. The pumps are a bit busier than usual with travellers filling up their tanks on their way to family gatherings, but that’s about it. Nora gets into the holiday spirit anyways, changing the radio station to one that plays Christmas carols around the clock and decorating the small space with brightly-coloured garlands that reflect in the security mirrors. 

She even brings Castiel a small string of battery-operated lights that she helps him arrange around his nametag, their brightness illuminating the fake name that he’s growing more and more comfortable answering to. 

Most Christmas traditions are still baffling to Castiel, removed as they are from any actual religious significance, but he’s beginning to enjoy them nevertheless. He finds himself smiling when customers wish him a merry Christmas or happy holidays, and he returns the sentiments in earnest. 

Even the most taciturn of his customers, the grizzled truck drivers who normally do little other than grunt at him as they pay for their coffee and their gas, smile slightly from behind their gray beards when he solemnly tells them to have a good Christmas. 

And maybe that’s all that it takes to pass along the holiday spirit: a few words from a stranger, a genuine smile brighter than any lights. 

Castiel can manage that. He has failed as an angel, but if this is a test of his humanity, he thinks he’s doing well so far.

It’s not until December 24th that Castiel truly understands why so many people love this time of year, though. One of his last customers of the day, an elderly woman who comes in now and then to purchase knitting magazines, invites him to join her at her church that evening for their annual Christmas concert.

Castiel smiles politely at her, but declines. He doesn’t think he would be comfortable in a church right now. It would only serve to remind him of Heaven, and Metatron’s trickery, and his own mistakes.

“Oh, will you still be working?” she inquires, with a regretful sigh. 

Nora, who has been lingering nearby, joins the conversation. “No, Steve is done at four,” she says. “I’m closing up tonight so I can have all day tomorrow with my daughter. Steve, the concert is lovely, I’ve been several times.”

She lowers her voice so only Castiel can hear her. “Besides, it will be good for you to get out,” she says, giving him a meaningful look. He knows that she worries about him, and he appreciates it.

Castiel looks between the two of them, wearing matching stubborn expressions, and sighs. “Alright.”

“Wonderful,” the woman beams. She passes him a flyer. “We start at seven. Dress warmly!”

Castiel looks at the flyer, squinting in confusion. Why would he need to dress warmly for a Christmas concert? He looks back up to ask, but the woman is gone.

Nora just shrugs when he asks her, a small smile playing around her lips. “You’ll see,” she tells him.

Castiel has never been particularly fond of surprises, and this kind of evasive behaviour makes him suspicious, especially after Metatron tricked him into giving up his Grace. But he trusts Nora. So shortly before seven o’clock that evening, he bundles himself up and makes the short walk to the church.

He recognizes a few of the people gathered there, even under their scarves and hats. They smile and welcome him, generous and open-hearted. He smiles back, their warmth settling his nerves.

“Welcome!” the woman who invited him says, the crowd going quiet as she begins to speak. “For those of you who don’t know me, I’m Agnes, director of community outreach here. Now, how many of you are with us for the first time tonight?”

Castiel tentatively raises his hand, as do five or so others. 

“Good,” Agnes says with an approving nod. “Very good. Now, if you’ll all come up here and grab a bag, we’ll begin.”

Puzzled, Castiel watches as people move forward to take the large red bags piled on the ground besides Agnes. An elderly gentleman passes one back to Castiel, and he accepts it with murmured thanks, still unclear as to what is happening.

“And off we go!” Agnes announces, heading for the exit.

Castiel falls in line with the others as they leave the church and make their way downtown. He considers peeking inside the bag he clutches in one gloved hand, but decides not to. At least he knows why he was told to dress warmly now.

The purpose of their excursion soon becomes clear. Like many other small towns, Rexford has its fair share of people living on the streets. Agnes stops beside a middle-aged woman huddled in a doorway, and opens her bag to press a smaller bag into the woman’s hands. 

Swallowing around the sudden lump in his throat, Castiel opens his own bag and peers inside. It’s full of smaller bags, each packed with toiletries, winter gear, and other things that will surely be of use to those left in the cold. 

He remembers those first days as a human, when he was in the same situation as the woman before him. He was alone, and hungry, and cold. But he was shown kindness then as well.

Agnes speaks softly to the woman, and she nods, then stands and joins them. They continue to walk through the quiet town, and every time they pass out a bag, the recipient joins their group. 

Castiel approaches a young man, a boy really, and crouches down to speak to him. “Hello,” he says, handing over one of the bags. 

The boy takes it warily, his eyes never leaving Castiel’s face. There is a great deal of sorrow in them for one so young, and Castiel’s heart aches for him. 

“Thank you,” the boy murmurs, clutching the bag to his chest. 

“My name is C- Steve,” Castiel tells him.

“Trevor,” the boy replies, the barest hint of a smile appearing on his face.

Castiel doesn’t know what they will be doing after this, but the others have joined their little group, so he extends a hand to Trevor. “Come on,” he says.

Trevor looks at it, then back at Castiel’s face. His expression is doubtful. Castiel can immediately tell that he has been hurt before, and likely by someone he thought he could trust. Just like Castiel himself has been.

But Trevor reaches out anyways, and Castiel helps him to his feet, and they fall into step together.

They wind their way back to the church, and Castiel notices that many of them still have bags left to give.

“We send them a shelter in the next town over,” another young woman explains to him, correctly interpreting his questioning look. “There’s always someone who could use a bit of extra help.”

Castiel nods. He knows this all too well.

When they arrive back at the church, there’s another small group waiting for them, with tea and coffee and hot chocolate and an assortment of snacks set out on long tables in the foyer. Castiel helps himself to a small cup of hot chocolate, savouring the rich sweetness of it, and then stands back, feeling more content than he has since his fall.

Once they’ve all had something to eat and drink, Agnes begins passing around sheet music. “This is no traditional concert,” she explains with a wink. “There’s no divide between performer and audience. We all sing. No matter if we’re blessed with strong voices or not.”

Castiel takes the sheet from her hand and smiles. He used to sing with his brothers and sisters, their voices raised in praise of their Father and his creations. But more recently, he sang to calm a crying infant. And now, he will sing to feel that he belongs.

Agnes starts, her voice soft but melodious, and the others slowly join in, their confidence building as the song goes on. When Trevor begins to sing, many impressed glances are thrown his way. His voice is strong and sure, and the lines of tension on his face begin to smooth out as he continues to sing.

A wave of peace washes over Castiel, and he starts to sing along with them, all these people, all their voices lifted together in perfect harmony. 

He doesn’t have much anymore. But he has more than some others, and he’s grateful to be among them tonight. Grateful to be able to share this special time of year with them. 

He has done great and terrible things over the course of his many years. His life is smaller now. But that doesn’t make it any less meaningful. He still has much to offer, and much to learn.

As the first song draws to a close, he feels his phone vibrate in his pocket. He pulls it out, and sees that it’s a new message from Dean.

 _Merry Christmas, Cas_ , is all that it says.

And as Castiel stands there, in a church that may not be filled with God’s presence but is filled with something Castiel finds even more valuable, he thinks to himself, _yes_. _Yes it is_.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you all for reading! My second story will post on December 25th, and it's much cheerier and much more Dean/Cas heavy this one. 
> 
> Wishing you all the best, no matter which holidays you celebrate this month.


End file.
